


12 Drabbles of Christmas

by a_littlelessconversation



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 12 Drabbles of Christmas, Drabble, F/M, HP Fanfic Club's Winter Writing Challenge 2020, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Hogwarts Seventh Year, One Word Prompts, Post-War, They are a little lost and a little broken, They need a friend, festive fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28408926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_littlelessconversation/pseuds/a_littlelessconversation
Summary: Hermione and Draco attempt to negotiate their Seventh Year at Hogwarts, as well as each other._________HP Fanfiction Club's Winter Writing Challenge 2020.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. CRACKLING

**Author's Note:**

> HP Fanfiction Club's Winter Writing Challenge has ignited my creative juices. I'll post the first six drabbles today and the last six before the New Year. 
> 
> If anyone is reading my Reylo WIP you'll know a small word count is not my thing, so sticking to 250 words or less was incredibly challenging. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Hope you are all keeping safe and healthy.   
> Enjoy.  
> Kat<3

Curled up in an armchair in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione’s eyes became lost within the crackling fire. Flickers of orange and gold burned into her retinas as she ruminated over her latest confrontation with Draco Malfoy.

There was something about him that afternoon that had made her stop and hold back her scathing retort. She had looked him over with a critical eye and observed him in a way she had scarcely allowed herself before. Draco had been in front of her, and yet, he hadn’t.

There was no bite to his sneer, no disgust radiating from his grey eyes. Malfoy had tried to taunt Hermione with the word he’d spat mercilessly at her so many times before, but this time there was no passion behind it, no meaning. He was an actor playing a role. A shell. A mirage.

An incessant tapping on the window drew Hermione from her thoughts. She turned to see an eagle-owl perched at the window, a small piece of parchment held in its beak, her name emblazoned on it. Hermoine stood, took the note from the owl and placed a coin in its bag. After giving her a gentle nip of thanks, it flew off into the night.

Hermoine scanned the empty common room as she unfolded the parchment.

_I’m sorry._

They all came back from the war different. A bit broken. A bit lost. Reading those two words, their elegant script unclaimed, Hermione wondered if perhaps Draco had changed most of all.


	2. BLIZZARD

Hermione’s hand began to ache as her quill furiously scratched across rolls of parchment. Books and numerical charts were strewn haphazardly across the table as she found herself buried deep in her arithmancy homework. 

The library was busier than usual for a Saturday, the blizzard outside deterring many of the older students from visiting Hogsmeade that afternoon. She smiled as the snow swirled around outside, and the wind sang melodically against the window. Hermione sat up and gave herself a stretch to find Malfoy hovering in the doorway, looking uncertain. She watched as people put bags on empty seats and spread books out along free spaces. He was being shunned. The Second Wizarding War may have ended, but Draco was still facing his own battle. 

Hermoine knew, better than most, what Draco had done during the war. What he had been forced to do and what he  _ couldn’t  _ force himself to do. Suddenly, something that Sirius had once told Harry entered her mind. ‘ _ The world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters. We’ve all got both light and dark inside of us’. _

With a sigh of resignation, Hermione caught Draco’s eye and glanced pointedly to the free seat across from her, clearing away some of her books to make room for him. Hesitantly, he made his way to the table before he settled sheepishly into the seat. Draco opened his mouth to speak but slowly closed it again, offering Hermione a curt nod instead.


	3. TREE

A cacophony of sleepy voices drew her out of her notes, and with a bite of toast, Hermione glanced around the Great Hall. She scanned the four vast tables, stopping to smile as she met the gaze of some of her friends. Finally, her eyes landed on Draco Malfoy, whose grave expression and sullen demeanor seemed out of place amid the boisterous Slytherin’s who sat around him. She watched as he stared out at nothing, his pale eyes glazed and a hand clenched tightly around his empty fork. In the few interactions she had had with Draco since returning to Hogwarts, he had seemed withdrawn, conflicted and, to her surprise, she found herself wondering if he was okay. 

Hermione hovered after breakfast as Professor Flitwick and several ghosts gathered to decorate the grand Christmas Tree in the Great Hall - Christmas break was fast approaching, and she was trying her best to ignite some semblance of excitement. Recently, she had found herself seeking solitude. Any joy she found seemed to be smothered by the weight of the shadows from the year before. Like a dementor loomed over her every move, and no memory she had seemed happy enough to pierce through.

“Hurry along, Granger,” Professor McGonagall reproached, startling Hermione out of her somber reverie. 

She scurried out of the Great Hall towards her first class of the day, her books held tight to her chest as her head began to circle back to the despondent face of her blonde-haired nemesis. 


	4. DREARY

“I don’t need your pity, Granger,” 

Hermione scoffed. “Good, because I’m not giving it to you,” She shoved past Draco and headed out of the castle towards Hagrid’s. “You looked like you could do with a friend, that’s all,”

“And why, after everything I’ve done, would  _ you _ want to be  _ my  _ friend?”

Hermione stopped and hit him with a hard, pensive stare. Honestly, she didn’t know. 

“I was there when Bellatrix tortured you, and I did nothing. Nothing.” Draco continued, looking a little wild-eyed. 

“You were scared.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to defend him, but she did. “You were doing what you had to do to protect your family,” 

“Was I?” He paused, broodingly. “Or was I being a coward? Or  _ maybe _ , I’m just as depraved as everyone thinks I am,” 

“It was war.” Hermione reasoned. “We all did things we weren’t proud of,” 

“Yes. But you chose to fight on the right side of it,” Malfoy shook his head, his deflated demeanor sagging further as he turned his back to her and began to walk away. 

Hermione let out a heavy sigh. “You can’t change the past, Draco.” She called out after him. “All we can do is try not to let it define us. Or break us,” 

The air was a dreary, bitter cold and yet it was nothing like the chill that fell over Hermione when Draco half-turned to her, his face full of solemnity and uttered, “What if it already has?” 


	5. SPICE

Hermione turned as she heard footsteps crunching in the snow and was surprised to see Draco walking up beside her. It was the last Hogsmeade visit before Christmas break, and Hermione found herself drawn to the Shrieking Shack. For some reason staring up at it seemed oddly comforting, even after everything that had transpired there. 

Draco stopped a few feet from her and hovered idly in the edge of her periphery. Since their last conversation, he had been studiously avoiding her, and Hermione couldn’t decide whether she had been relieved or disappointed. They stood in deafening silence, Draco with his hands firmly planted in his pockets and Hermione sipping on a drink she’d gotten from the village.

“What’s that?”

“Pumpkin-spiced coffee,” She shrugged. “It reminds me of home,”

“Do you ever miss it?” Draco asked uncertainly. “Your life... before?” 

“Sometimes,” Hermione muttered, taking a second to consider her answer. “Honestly, part of me has forgotten what it was like before...everything. And now it’s over…” 

“You don’t know what normal is anymore,” Draco finished for her. 

Hermione nodded sadly, observing him. 

“Me neither,” he confessed. Draco seemed just as lost as she was, just as unsure of himself. 

“We need to find our new normal,” She affirmed.

Draco’s grey eyes held hers in a vice-like grip. Questions swam amid them, unsettling Hermione for reasons she didn’t want to unpack. She cleared her throat. “I should go,” 

Reluctantly, she tore her eyes from his and left him standing in the snow. 


	6. FLEECE

Hermione sat in bed, a quilted fleece from home wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Over the years she had learned that no matter how smart or how logical you were, there were some things in life you couldn’t predict. The ending of her Hogsmeade trip was one of those things. 

She was just shy of the village when she heard Malfoy call out her name.

“Granger, wait!” 

Hermione turned to see Draco panting out a breath, his pallid cheeks flushed. 

“Does your offer still stand?” 

“What?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

“To be your friend,” He swallowed, a plea in his eyes. “Does your offer still stand?” 

Her eyes grew wide. Had she heard him right? Bewilderment overwhelmed her and rendered her completely nonplussed. “Um...yes,” She faltered, sounding entirely unconvincing. 

He snorted. “You sure about that?” 

“Yes,” Hermione tried again with a voice more confident than she felt.    


“Okay,” Draco let out a relieved breath, and Hermione wondered how hard it had been for him to swallow back his pride and ask her.

“Okay.” Hermione felt herself smirk at the awkwardness that shrouded them, neither of them sure how to proceed. 

“So, we’re friends now?” 

“It would seem so,” A boyish grin spread on Draco’s face, and she wondered if the twinkle in his eyes mirrored her own. 

Hermione pulled the blanket tighter to her and smiled at the memory despite herself. Nope, there was no way she could’ve predicted that one day she would become friends with Draco Malfoy. 


	7. TRAVEL

_ Harry, _

_ Thank you for your letters. I’ve enjoyed reading about your training immensely - it makes me feel like I’m traveling with you. Am I right in thinking Stealth and Tracking are next? Good luck. Ron and stealth go together about as well as me and Divinations. Try to make sure he doesn’t get kicked out of Auror-Training.  _

_ I decided not to go home for Christmas in the end. After being so desperate to hunt my parents down and recover their memories, it just didn’t feel right being with them at Christmas after everything. Although, saying that, being here at Hogwarts doesn’t feel right either. Perhaps it’s being here without you and Ron. Perhaps it’s walking through these halls remembering everyone we lost, but Hogwarts has lost that warm feeling of home it once had. Nevertheless, in true Hogwarts fashion, I have been finding friends in the most unlikely of places. _

_ Hagrid is doing his best to get me into the Christmas spirit, bless him. He misses you both. Be forewarned. He has been experimenting with a new recipe that he plans to send you both boxes of for Christmas. For your own safety - and that of your teeth - I’d recommend keeping the lid firmly shut.  _

_ Send my love to Ron and the Weasley’s. Have a wonderful Christmas.  _

_ I miss you, _

_ Hermione.  _


	8. ICE

The air was crisp and the sky a bright, winter’s grey. Frost bit at Hermione’s nose as she walked to the edge of the Great Lake and uttered ‘ _ glacius’ _ . With a flurry of her wand, a blue light shone and froze part of the lake in front of her. Tentatively, she placed one foot on the ice, then the other. Matching Christmas jumpers and nervous smiles came hurtling into her mind as she remembered wobbling her way around an ice rink with her parents.

“Granger?”

Startling at the sound of her name, she turned so abruptly, her feet slid out from underneath her, and with a great thump, Hermione landed on her backside. “Ow,”

“Merlin!” Draco was by her side in an instant, his hand hovering at her elbow. “Are you okay?”

“That’s going to hurt tomorrow,” Hermione groaned out with a chuckle, rubbing her hip and lower back. 

“What were you doing?”

“Skating,” Confronted with a blank stare, she expanded. “Muggles have these shoes with blades attached to them so you can skate along the ice,”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because it’s  _ fun _ ,” She smirked at a skeptical Draco.

“Let me help you up,” 

Hermione took his proffered hands and tried to pull herself up, but as she did, Draco’s feet began to slide wildly, and in an instant, they had fallen comically to the ground. Both crumbled on the ice, they turned to each other with wide eyes and burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. 


	9. FAMILY

“Why didn’t you go home for Christmas?” Draco inquired softly. 

The day before Christmas Eve, Hermione and Draco were the only ones in the library. They sat across from each other that morning, content to sit in silence as they plowed on with homework. Hermione raised her quill and considered Draco before resolving to confide in him. “Before Harry, Ron and I left to hunt Horcruxes last year, I oblivated my parents…” 

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise but said nothing. 

“...I erased all traces of me to protect them from... well, you know.”  _ Deatheaters _ hung menacingly in the space between them. “And when the war was over, I searched for them and replaced their memories.” She sighed. “I didn’t go home because we need space to figure things out,” 

“Figure things out?” 

“They spent a year in Australia believing they were childless, and suddenly, these other lives were thrust upon them. They need time to acquaint themselves with reality. And I...I need to resign myself to the fact that I’m not the same Hermione who left them,”

Draco nodded, something like understanding on his face. “I can’t go back to The Manor. The things that happened in that place…” He trailed off with a shudder.

Hermione didn’t need him to tell her what happened there. She could see the trauma carved deep in his eyes and the ghosts that settled there. The Manor wasn’t his home. It was his personal torture. 


	10. STAR

“Granger? What are you doing here?”

Hermione’s head popped up over the back of a crimson velvet couch. “I’m hiding,” 

She had transformed the Room of Requirement into a warm sitting room, with a large couch propped in front of a roaring fire, shelves upon shelves of books ordaining the walls and a gramophone played jazz softly in the corner. 

“Those first years still annoying you?” Draco asked as he flopped himself down onto the couch.

Hermione closed over her book with a huff. “I can’t deal with them fawning over my every move,”

“That’s what happens when you’re  _ a star of War _ ,” 

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes, which only made Draco chuckle. 

“At least they aren’t terrified of you,” 

“I remember a time when you  _ lived _ to scare and torment,” She teased, taking a large sip from a mug that sat on the table next to her.

“Yes, well, times change,” Draco said, suddenly sounding serious. “And  _ people _ change,” 

Hermione lowered her mug and met his gaze, his eyes dark and meaningful. “And have they?” She asked, a feeling of unease deep in her stomach.

“I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t,” He affirmed.

Hermione gave him a small smile and continued on as if the room hadn’t filled with indeterminate tension. “Good.” She picked up her flask from the table and held it out for him. “Now pour yourself some hot chocolate. You look cold,” 

With a smirk playing on his lips, Draco did as he was told.


	11. GOLD

It was Christmas Eve. The ghosts were caroling around the castle, and Peeves provided them with a unique accompaniment as he merrily blew raspberries at passersby. 

Hermione’s eyebrows were tightly furrowed as she blurted out the question that had been plaguing her all day. “What were you doing at the Room of Requirement yesterday?”

Draco stopped and turned to her stoically.

“You were there for a reason. It just so happened that I was there first,” 

Draco’s eyes were soft yet confident. Determined. “I wanted to go to the Room of Hidden Things to find something I’d put there at the start of term,” 

“What?”

Draco rummaged in his jacket pocket and held out a small object for Hermione to inspect. It was a gold, signet ring, engraved with what Hermione presumed was the Malfoy family crest. “I want to be more than a name. I want to be better than them, not just a carbon copy of the men who have worn this before me. But if I can’t convince people in here, I have no chance out there,”

Hermione watched as he fidgeted with the ring, his head bowed dejectedly. “You want to be more than a name? Then  _ show  _ them.” She implored. “ _ Prove _ to them, and yourself, that you’re more than just a Malfoy,”

Draco met her gaze, hopelessness settling in his eyes. Draco’s secret was that he wanted to be better than his predecessors, but Hermione’s was that she believed he already was.


	12. GIFT

Christmas dinner in The Great Hall had been an endearing affair. There had been fifteen of them altogether, and Professor McGonagall had done everything in her power to ensure it was a raucous affair. Hermione ambled around the deserted corridors of the castle, watching as portraits jumped from painting to painting, basking in their high-spirited celebrations. 

“Psst, Granger!” 

Hermione whipped her head around to see Draco signaling her to follow him. They snuck up to the Astronomy Tower and stood admiring the smattering of stars in the sky. 

“Here,” Draco said, unceremoniously after a moment, holding out a piece of parchment to her. 

Hermione looked at him quizzically and hesitantly took the parchment from him. She unfolded it to reveal a beautiful drawing of a bouquet of pink roses, and as she felt a smile creep onto her face, the parchment transformed into that very bouquet. “You didn’t have to,” Hermione gasped out gratefully, as she held the flowers to her nose, breathing them in. 

“I did,” He affirmed. “It’s not a Christmas present. It’s a thank you,” 

Hermione lowered the flowers to get a proper look at him. This friendship of theirs was irrational and ill-fated, but for some reason, they needed it. 

Draco took her hand in his and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Merry Christmas, Hermione,” 

“Merry Christmas, Draco,” She whispered. 

They stood side by side, looking out as snow blanketed the grounds, Hermione’s hand still wrapped in Draco’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my 12 Drabbles of Christmas. I'm toying with the idea of expanding this idea into a story, because who doesn't love a redemption arc? 
> 
> Let me know what you think.   
> Sending love and Happy New Year wishes to you all.   
> Kat <3


End file.
